Sick and Tired

I called off of work yesterday. Until around 6:00PM, I spent my time surfing the internet, obsessing over my husband’s friends, and feeling paralyzed. As usual. My mood got worse and worse, getting to a tipping point where I was walking around the house and talking to myself, savage, mean things. Then I had a breakthrough moment: I decided I was sick of it. Sick and tired of being sick and tired.

So I got my ass up and took a two mile walk. The first time in months, maybe a year, that I voluntarily chose to exercise.

I can’t think that just lazing around feeling sorry for myself helps in any way. It doesn’t. Doing something over and over and expecting different results is insanity. Barely feeding myself, and when I do, overdoing it, leads me to feel like shit and increases my weight. Not going to bed at a sane hour and then sleeping in makes me feel like shit. Not showering because I’m just going to be dirty again very soon (from housework) makes me feel like shit.

It’s important for me to realize that I’m not helping myself when I let everything go. The only way to recharge my mental energy is to DO things, not by not doing things. I’m getting better at telling when I’m putting myself into a slump. I need to practice realizing it and getting up and doing something, whether it’s exercise or housework.

The important realization for me is that regaining control over sleeping, eating, and exercising is important for both mental and physical health. After I took my walk, I stretched and took a shower. I went out and got my hair cut, finally. I’ve been more and more afraid of leaving the house. Afraid of other people’s judgemental eyes. But I did it. Then I bought more water and low carbohydrate meal bars. After that I went to Wal-Mart (ugh) and bought some cheap, cheap workout clothes. A side note: If you’re looking to lose weight, don’t be ashamed at shopping somewhere you don’t like to get affordable workout clothes. I bought a couple of men’s 2x and 3x shirts that were baggy and loose. The worse thing about exercising around other people when you’re obese and have a pannus (stomach that hangs down) is that pannus flopping around in tight, fitted clothes. It’s extremely observable and gross. Hence, the baggy shirts.

After clothes shopping, I started to feel ill, and I realized that I had gone on that two mile walk and then didn’t eat anything afterwards. No doubt I am pre-diabetic, because I knew right away from the feeling that it was a blood sugar drop. I felt so bad that I knew if I closed my eyes I might pass out. Stopped at a gas station and bought some beef jerky, and after about 10-15 minutes felt well enough to drive home.

I have to take control. I have to take control of what goes into my mouth. I can’t eat to make the feelings go away any longer. I feel exhausted at all times. I feel ill. The only way to make that go away is to feed myself right and to exercise. Yesterday, up until 6PM, I felt wretched. Absolutely wretched. Hating myself, hating my body, hating everything and everyone.

I don’t deserve to feel this way. Time to do something different.

I’m not sure if anyone really reads this blog, if they do, it is almost a martyrdom. I don’t have much to say, besides endless self-analysis and mentally-ill rants. But if I gear this blog towards actually helping myself over venting, I’m sure no one would mind.

Yesterday’s two mile walk took about 36 minutes, 46 seconds. Let’s get that time down.


Banana Stickers

Day 8 taking Wellbutrin. The last two days have been weird. I do well during the day at work. Practically extroverted. But the second I get home, I check out mentally. Last night, I spent all night in bed reading after a productive day at work.

Today I slept in, the first time this week. I woke up naturally at 11:30 for about 8.5 hours of sleep, but chose to lay in bed in the warmth and comfort for another hour or so. I wonder if my mood problems have been exacerbated by lack of sleep. The WB is helping me immediately in some ways, but not helping me in others. Maybe that will be different in a few weeks.

I feel like I am never in the moment. I feel like I am just waiting for time to pass – what I’m waiting for, I don’t know.

The last few days I have been resolving to take a gym bag with me to work. I got as far as putting my athletic shoes on the floor in the bedroom, and I tried on a few pairs of workout pants to see if they still fit. But as for actually packing and taking it with me to work? Not yet. I think the reluctance stems from not wearing my hairpiece at work when I am in the gym. It will out me as wearing a hairpiece, if a coworker sees me in there without it. I am counting on working out when no one else is in there.. But maybe I should think about “coming out” with my short hair.

Today, it’s sunny finally. The storms of the last few days were nice, but I think the dimness affected me. Maybe tonight I will go home, take a VERY small amount of moda, and try to kick some a55.

WB makes it easier to complete tasks. Well, more like this: If I can push myself over the edge to START the task, WB insures that I complete it. It still doesn’t give me the kick of motivation I need to initiate, but the task seems overall less overwhelming.

I think I’m about ready to start being consistent. Or, at least trying. I need to develop a reward system, maybe a daily chart with stickers? I’m secretly a five year old who enjoys putting a smiley face or gold star sticker on something when I accomplish it. I searched in vain for affordable sheets of banana stickers ala Metalocalypse.

The first big thing to tackle: Sleep and showering.

I can get up at 9 or 9:30 for a while, but if I don’t go to bed at a proper time getting up early accomplishes nothing, as I spend the major portion of the day just waking up. I need to consistently go to bed at a regular time. It’s pressing that I do this, because in only a few weeks I will need to be getting up very early (6am or earlier) for vacation. There’s no way our friend who is hosting us on our trip will let my ass sleep in till 10 or 11 or 12 or 1.

The problem being that I facking love being up late. The dark, quiet coolness of the night is amazing. Less chance of being taken out of my head by interruptions. Well, suck it up.

Showering, now, that’s something I feel best doing every other day. As thin as my hair is, washing it every day wouldn’t be good. I make showering an ordeal, as I do everything else. My perfectionist ways make every task seem like an arduous event. I have to do it just right, my brain whispers, or don’t do it at all. So I don’t do it.

I think I can do this, though. I just need stickers. Lots and lots of stickers.